


rope constricts towards the ocean

by sternenrotz



Series: broken hearts hurt but they make us strong (queer horror verse) [11]
Category: The Horrors (Band)
Genre: Asexual Character, Bars and Pubs, Coming Out, Gen, Nonbinary Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-05
Updated: 2018-01-05
Packaged: 2019-02-28 21:49:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13280538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sternenrotz/pseuds/sternenrotz
Summary: Josh goes for an evening at the pub with the rest of the band.





	rope constricts towards the ocean

**Author's Note:**

> titled after "Arrival in Nara" by Alt-J.
> 
> set in summer 2008, during the recording of _Primary Colours_. as usual: Josh doesn't like labels but uses Spivak pronouns, Rhys is a trans girl, and her chosen name is Dilys. Joe is also a trans boy, but it's not brought up at all.

By Sunday evening standards, the pub is empty.

They snagged a booth at the very corner by the entrance, and they’re already on the second round of pints by the time the door opens. Joe and Tom are engrossed by some conversation Josh stopped listening to when it stopped being about guitar pedals, but eir head snaps upwards the second Dilys walks Faris inside with a hand on the small of his back. She’s wearing a paisley-patterned sundress today, a glowy tan on her face and limbs that’s only getting deeper. Joe did say that they took the train to the beach the other day.

Faris, by contrast, is already eyeing the crowd in front of the bar with wariness.

“Do you maybe just want to sit down while I get us both drinks?”

As to be expected from him, Faris only shrugs. He looks like he hasn’t slept or had any human contact in several days, which is a state even by his standards.

“Come on.”

Joe and Tom finally break away from their chat when Dilys stands right in front of their table. She only stops for a quick hello, though, a peck on the lips for Joe, and just as soon she turns to Faris and says she’ll be right back.

“Okay?”

“Okay,” Faris says.

Josh realises ey forgot what his voice sounds like, or at least, ey doesn’t recall it to be so guttural. In the split second that he just stands there, glaring around the table through his coke-bottle frames, any atmosphere of a relaxing evening with pints at the pub evaporates from the air.

“Move,” Faris finally instructs.

Josh scoots over onto the vacant seat between em and Joe that was intended for Dilys, and ey reaches for eir pint. The air conditioning isn’t that good here, but the goosebumps still prickle up onto eir tits. At least Tom already made all the jokes about eir neckline to fulfill his daily quota.

Joe says, “Hullo,” in a poor attempt to relieve the tension, and he snags a finger in eir bra strap.

“Welcome to the cool kids’ table,” Josh says, not so much to anyone as just generally into the room.

Ey can’t place the emotion behind the goosepimples at all. Faris is staring into the tabletop when ey turns back to look at him again. The stench of too many cigarettes and illness wafts over from him, so maybe Josh shouldn’t mind the three feet of space between them. In any case, he doesn’t react.

Total awkward silence settles around the table, and Josh can’t figure out if the stink of alcohol is part of the residual pub smell or another note in Faris’ personal fragrance. Ey remembers what Dilys told em days ago, and another shudder immediately runs up eir front at that moment. The beer in front of em tastes stale and metallic, and in turn, Joe and Tom stare into their pints, too. Josh squeezes eir tit and watches Dilys approach the queues like it’s eir own drink ey’s waiting for.

Tom finally breaks the silence, but his voice is equally metallic and stale. “Faz,” he says, more into his drink. The nickname sounds like an affectation. “How’ve you been?”

Faris possibly shrugs, but the movement is so miniscule that Josh can’t be sure. For a long second, ey wonders whether that’s the only reply they’re going to get.

“I’m alive,” Faris finally rumbles out. “I guess.”

The silence returns to the table just as soon, and Josh at least realises that Dilys has fought her way to the bar by now. Ey wonders whether she told anyone else about her visit to Faris’ flat, but ey supposes that could go any way. Joe’s her boyfriend, but he and Faris never spent much time together, and Tom’s just too busy getting Josh emself into bed to care about anything else. Normally, Josh doesn’t even mind, and if the air around them wasn’t profoundly depressing and awkward, ey would let him strike up a flirt to lighten the mood.

Faris leans onto the tabletop with both elbows and says, “It’s so loud in here,” voice so flat it _could_ be sarcasm.

When Dilys reappears, she’s carrying a pint of cider and back and what appears to be a glass of orange juice.

“Here you go,” she says. “Faz? Can you move?”

“Oh, sorry.”

Faris accepts his drink and turns sideways, legs hanging over the side of the booth, so Dilys can shuffle over into the vacant spot. Josh isn’t going to question it.

“You alright?” Dilys asks next.

Faris shrugs and uses the straw to sip from his orange juice. From the distance, it’s hard to be certain, but Josh doesn’t reckon there’s any alcohol in it.

“At least they’ve got air conditioning in here, even if it’s shit.”

He says it like he could be overjoyed or completely apathetic, and Dilys looks at him like it’s the most profound statement she ever heard, before she mercifully changes the topic to a gig that’s on next week. They should all go, she thinks, and Tom and Joe instantly agree, and Josh once more realises Dilys is the glue that keeps them all together. Still, ey looks back over at Faris again when ey joins the chatter, and ey realises ey can’t remember the last time ey saw him outside the studio, either. Or in the studio, for that matter, but time works differently when they’re recording the album.

“Faris? You want a fag, too?”

Josh didn’t catch who called the smoke break in the first place, but Faris only shakes his head.

“I quit smoking, Remember,” he deadpans.

“Of course you did.” Dilys says it like she’s speaking to a child.

Faris doesn’t mind her tone. “I’ll just stay inside and watch the drinks.”

“I’ll stay with you,” Josh offers before ey can even think about it. Ey immediately regrets it, too, since ey really wanted a fag.

Dilys gleams a smile at Faris first and em second. “Alright,” she says.

“Right,” Faris echoes, hollow as before.

“We’ll be right back.”

Dilys smacks a kiss onto Josh’s cheek and hugs Faris around the shoulders, Faris rearranges himself, and she’s off. When they’re left all alone at the table, Josh demonstratively glances at the blank space between them. Faris nudges all the way to the edge of the bench, and the empty air becomes empty silence.

“I’ve been meaning to talk to you about this,” Josh finally starts when time has stretched on for enough.

Ey thinks ey now remembers the last time the two of them spent time together outside the studio, and just as soon, ey’s shocked by sheerly how long ago it was. Back then, ey couldn’t find a good time to bring up what ey’s about to say now.

“I was thinking…”

“Josh.”

For the first time tonight, Faris meets eir gaze straight ahead. His eyes are clear like empty amber.

“I’m not in the mood.”

Faris sips his juice like this conversation is over for him, even if Josh doesn’t have even the slightest idea what it is he’s not in the mood for. Ey drinks eir pint in turn, and ey hates Faris for being obtuse.

“I didn’t mean…” Josh starts, whatever Faris must have thought ey meant.

Again, ey’s shut up promptly when Faris blocks em off with one hand. “I’m not up for it.”

This time, his tone is so determined that Josh doesn’t have the nerve to speak up again. Ey only looks down at what’s left of eir beer and finishes it off in one swig.

“I’ll get another drink.”

Faris shrugs.

The line for the counter is short now, and Josh still feels uncomfortably exposed waiting to get served by emself, even if the alternative is very clearly worse. The barman stares at eir tits for a little too long when he pours eir pint, but by the time ey gets back to the table, everyone else has returned as well. Tom and Joe slide out of the booth this time to let Josh past, and ey shimmies back to eir seat in the middle of the round.

“Hey,” Joe greets once again.

“Had to grab another beer,” Josh explains, as if it wasn’t obvious.

This time around, ey leans in and gives Joe a peck on his lips, but when ey turns back to the table, Faris isn’t looking.

“There’s something I wanted to tell you all about,” ey says next.

Ey supposes ey’ll do it like this, all in one go, then.

“I guess Di already knows, but…” Josh takes a breath. At least ey doubts this could go worse than the first time. Still, ey squeezes eir tit for moral support. “I’m not actually a man. It’s more like in-between, genderqueer.”

As soon as ey says it, ey realises there’s no reason for any of them to know that word, considering ey only found it through an obscure Wikipedia page emself. Still, none of them shoot over questioning glances just yet.

“Yeah,” Josh answers to the empty air, and ey grasps eir pint and sips it instead. “I’ll probably still start hormones in a few, but I’m just not a man. And I’ve got new pronouns, ey, em, eir, which is like _they_ , without the first two letters.”

Ey shrugs eir shoulders, and ey feels like ey said this all before.

Tom finally quips, “I guess this explains your willingness to dress in drag, then.”

If Josh was pulling him tonight, ey’d make him sleep on the couch just over that. Instead, ey merely blows him a razzie.

“Yeah, while we’re at it, I’ve got something to say as well.”

Faris’ voice is a lot louder and clearer than Josh would’ve expected it. He fidgets with his glass while they all go to turn their eyes towards him now.

“I did some research over the last few days, and I think I’m asexual.”

The sensation that creeps into Josh’s chest is one of queer fragility, like a hairline crack that suddenly paints itself across a plate of glass. One hand goes to the base of eir pint, the other to eir tit.

“That means I don’t feel sexual attraction,” Faris exposits, after a beat that would’ve felt too long on anyone else. “No need to change anything up over that, but I’d like to be excluded from…”

At this point, he trails off. His eyes behind the glasses dart across the table and around the lot of them, like they’re searching for an end to that statement.

“From this, I guess?”

Faris sweeps one arm across the tabletop to gesture at each of them in turn. Just as soon, he lowers his head and turns away, and Dilys’ hand slides atop of his on the upholstery.

“You okay?” she asks.

The question isn’t aimed at em, and still, behind the squeeze of Josh’s fingers, the cracks spread and something shatters.

Josh grasps eir pint tighter, and ey whispers, “Yeah, I’m fine.”

Faris, at the same time, says, “Am alright.”


End file.
